


Behave, Bro

by SpaceSloth



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Babysitting, Bro being a little asshole, Dubious Consent, First Time, I'm not gonna lie, John regretting his life, M/M, Older!John, Reverse Age, dub-con, it's probably gonna get explicit, john is still actually a virgin, mature for now, older!dave, so i'm gonna add the tags now, younger!bro
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-21
Updated: 2014-08-10
Packaged: 2017-12-15 17:46:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/852287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceSloth/pseuds/SpaceSloth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John agrees to babysit for Dave.<br/>What he doesn't know is that Bro is practically legal.<br/>If that's the case, why is he watching him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can You Handle It?

**Author's Note:**

> So, I apologize for my ADD in the stories, but every time I go to write for one of my previous fan fics, I get major ideas for new ones.  
> I don't know if this one is gonna go anywhere or not.  
> I want it to, though! I guess it just depends on how well it's liked.  
> I promise to try and update the others soon.  
> Here's a short poll:  
> What fan fic do you want updated first?  
> Call Me Anytime?  
> Simple Replacement?  
> Or this one?
> 
> Either way, I hope you enjoy this!  
> Thank you for reading this and my other works if you have!

You're pretty sure this wasn't what you agreed to when you told Dave you'd watch his younger brother for the weekend. Dave said to be careful because he was a little shit-fuck and he likes to mess with any type of sharp objects. There was a list given to you with the things his brother does/would try to do/will do. You briefly nodded and made sure to study over that list like it was your life for the next two nights. You were sure to be ready for anything this kid was about to throw at you. 

At 4pm on Friday night, there he stood, a little taller than you actually. 5'11, lean and blonde. Almost immediately you start judging his outfit.

Loose-fitted jeans and a black tank top. What a ridiculous belt-buckle. That hat is a disaster. Where would you even buy crazy shades like that? A cosplay store? You would've assumed with all of the suits Dave owned, thanks to your dad, his brother would at least wear something less... grungy. There were cuts all up his arms and across his clavicle. You raised an eyebrow but Dave raised a hand to kill the question before it had a chance to reach the surface. 

Dave called him Bro, which you thought that was just short for brother but it turns out that's his honest-to-god name. You shouldn't have been bothered to expect anything more from Dave with his bad taste in names.

You stared at his sunglasses, assuming you two were sharing eye contact before he pushes his way passed you and sat down on the couch. Wow, what a jerk. He didn't even say hello. 

"Have fun, Egbert."

"Uh, I guess I'll try to. I'm not good at babysitting."

"He isn't a baby so don't worry about it. I just don't feel safe leaving him at home with how he is."

"How he is?"

"May I bring your attention back to the list I gave you the other day, or do we need to go check you into the doctors to make sure something didn't get dislodged in there when you were trying to shove it through your eye sockets the moment it left my hand?"

"Oh. Er, right. My bad. I guess it may have slipped my mind for a second."

"That'll be the worst thing you can do. Good luck." Dave made the hand sign Spock did in that Star Trek movie he made you watch for not-so-ironic purposes as he walked off of your porch and over to his car. He didn't spare any time speeding out of your driveway and down the road to the airport. You furrowed your brows at him. He said he didn't even like Star Trek. What a nerd.

You shut the door and sigh, mentally preparing yourself for the worst, as if you haven't already been doing so, and turn around to see your living room almost completely destroyed. You hadn't even had your back turned to this kid for more than five minutes and his clothes were littering your floor, spilling out from his duffel bag. The books and remotes on your coffee table were knocked to the floor to make way for the Xbox he brought along with him and he had dumped an entire backpack full of snacks onto the remainder of the table.

This kid was fast. He kind of reminded yourself of how you and Dave used to take up refuge in your father's living room, destroying it with trash and video games in moments. You were about to go off in your mind and start reminiscing when you realized you should be scolding Bro for turning your living room into Hurricane Katrina's baby and make him pick up after himself before he got too out of hand.

As you raised a finger and opened your mouth to give him a good talking to, he surprises you by pulling his shirt up over his head exposing a scarred torso which makes you shut your mouth and watch as he tossed it to the floor to join the rest of his clothing. You find yourself tracing over the pale white lines with your eyes when you realize he's undoing his belt. You stood there with your blue eyes glued to him and realize he is getting undressed and you have to remind yourself that you shouldn't watch someone take their clothes off. You spin around to give him some privacy and cross your arms as you wait impatiently, thinking of the kind of lecture you should give him about stripping down in an open area of someone else's home when the sound of his belt jingling boggled your mind. 

It was suddenly silent except for the loud zip that followed a nd the muffled sound of pants hitting the ground.

Is he naked? In the living room? For heaven's sake this kid was going to be sat down in the corner while you gave him a speech about respecting somebody's house enough to get undressed in the bathroom or some closed off place where people aren't standing.

"All clear, maiden." You spin around at the sudden statement to see Bro fully clothed in his pajamas, minus the shirt and you find yourself openly gaping at his torn up chest. You furrow your brow, trailing back to the thought you had before. Of course he wouldn't be naked, and what's with that ludicrous nickname he so generously bestowed upon you.

"Excuse me?"

"Nothin'. Got anythin' to good to drink?" his Texan accent is strong, unlike Dave's who tries to hide his, Bro is actually embracing his. "Like vodka, beer, whiskey? Maybe even a little bit of rum or some wine?" he continues listing off various types of alcohol and mixed drinks when you quickly interject.

"Water."

"What?" he asked a little dumbfounded like he couldn't believe you just interrupted him.

"Tap. From the faucet. Glasses are in the cupboard left of the fridge. Help yourself."

Bro seems to recollect his sudden falter in cool and flops down onto the couch with a grunt. What grace.

"Hella lame, bk."

"Pardon? "Bee kay?"

"Buzz killer, geezer. Learn the slang or you'll never survive these times."

"I think I've survived plenty without knowing a single bit of slang."

"Time are changin', and fast. Who knows, maybe one day you'll be at gun point by some kid and knowing just one slang word would save your life and you'd think to yourself, 'man, why didn't I ever listen to Bro? I would be able to keep my life had I not taken his advice and learned some slang,' and then you would have wished you sat down with me to learn some street lingo."

His incessant rambling sort of reminded you a little of how Dave used to be when he was younger. Hell, he still ends up rambling now. A lot too. You find yourself forcing back a smile because you should be mad! Bro has trashed your house and now he's insulting you and your age!

Once he finished going on about the 'ways of the road', he starts looking at you with something that could be noted as expectance and you furrow your brow.

"What?" you say more than ask, a little irritated by his insult.

"Are you gonna go get me a drink or what?"

"Excuse me?"

"Are you a little deaf? Do you have hearing aids? I asked where my drink was."

"Yes. No, I heard you and I told you where to find the cups and water to parch your rude mouth with city water. Unless you need me to draw out a map in case you get lost in the kitchen."

To that Bro raised both of his eyebrows in mock surprise, making you growl another annoyed 'what' in his direction.

"Dave told me to go easy on you because you were a push-over, but I see you have a backbone on you."

You cross your arms, both insulted and a little proud as you pull on a disinterested facade.

"Of course I have a backbone. I am Dave's friend and also, I am most definitely not a push-over! I'm insulted to think that Dave assumed I couldn't handle you."

At your statement, you could have swore up and down the Washington state border that Bro grinned. It must have been your imagination thought because no Strider smiles.

"Is that so?"

"Indeed! I can handle a child of any age! Er," Now that you think about it, you don't even know how old Bro is. Dave never mentioned it. "How old are you, again?"

Bro just stared in your general direction but he didn't answer you right away. It was like he started a full on debate in his head about whether or not he should dignify you with an answer. 

Finally, before you were about to lose your nerve, he was gracious enough to provide you with a number.

"17." You gaped. You probably looked a little dumb, always gaping at Bro but you couldn't help it. Why is Dave having you watch his 17-year-old brother? You know he mentioned why a couple times. About how he is but, how is he?

When he received no response from you he definitely smirked.

"Still think you can handle someone my age?"

You try not to show that you're suddenly a little bit nervous. Having been one yourself, you know exactly how males are at that age, although you never acted out like that.

"Of course!" you counter with wavering confidence. "I was 17 once myself. I can definitely handle you!"

He started snickering in a way that makes you think you've missed something. You're only the ripe age of 26. Really! How much could 17-year-olds change after nine years? 

You stand there like you have been doing, just a few feet away from Bro's mess and watch as he starts hooking up everything to get settled and starts playing video games while you silently battle with the situation in your mind. A couple minutes after your thoughts decide to cool down you realize that you haven't made an effort to force him to clean and that he's lazily lounging on your sofa like he owns the entire area. He turns his head to look at you and gives another knowing grin as you openly stare at him. Are things really as different now as he says they are?

You swallow at the thought and hope that it isn't by much.


	2. You're Never Gonna Win

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is dedicated to a wonderful fan who has instigated a fire in my fingers and now here we are.  
> More than a year later and there's finally a second chapter. It's probably not what you were expecting and you're probably disappointed but I'll squeeze out some more as soon as humanly possible with my work schedule in the way.  
> Thanks, cutie~ Stay strong.  
> PS: I don't know if there are any mistakes or whatnot, but I usually end up re-reading my fics and fix any errors gradually.

You've been sitting there twiddling your thumbs for the last forty minutes staring at the screen. Bro was playing some downgraded skate boarding game with really sad graphics. Listening to him swear and mutter under his breath when he messes up a trick he's trying to do or grunting in annoyance as he got up to reset the console every time he gets his character stuck in the ground. You'd think after the seventh time he pushed himself off of the couch to hit the power button that he'd think to put in a different game. 

He knocks over a can and your eyes follow it, watching it roll under your coffee table. It brings your attention back to the previous mess he created and the fact that you still haven't done anything to try and get him to clean it. The glass of water sits at the edge of the table, condensation sliding onto the wood, taunting you for giving in and allowing yourself to go get the water for him. You've lost two battles so far but the war is still young.

Rule #1: Don't tell him what to do, you'll only make whatever it is you're trying to do worse

A sigh escaped through your nose and he looked over to you in interest.

"Somethin' wrong over there?" His tone was almost mocking. Hell it was mocking. It was like he was asking if you were giving up.

"Absolutely not," you replied in a huff and pushed yourself up. You're going to wind up losing this war but you're not going down without a fight. You start by picking up his trash and taking them to the trash can in the kitchen. When you come back into the living room you noticed something changed but you couldn't quit place your finger on it. You squint as you think about what it could be. A shiver went through your spine and you jumped noticing this weird puppet face peeking out from behind your TV. 

Christ what was that? 

Bro must have noticed your gaze because he simply said "That's lil' Cal" as if that was the only answer needed to a question he never really asked.

Bro tossed an empty dorito bag to the floor and laid back on the couch, throwing his leg over the back on the couch and making himself more at home. Old man wrinkles were starting to take refuge on your forehead. Just shake it off, John. Shake it off. He's only here for two nights. You don't bother about picking up his clothes to put them back into his bag because god forbid: Rule #2: If you touch his shit he will throw the biggest bitch fit.

It makes you stop and think. There's some way you can get this little shit to listen or do something besides ruin your living room. There's no sharp objects that he try to equip as a sword, you made sure those were gone. You shut off the wireless internet so that he couldn't stream porn or do anything weird that your internet suppliers would be questioning you about. There aren't any sources that will start a fire and for once you're glad you have the shitty little electric stove you have. 

Rule #3: He likes to rummage through things that aren't his so if you have porn mags or dildos (come on we all know you do) you better hide them or you will never see them again.

That rule is kinda gross to think about but you took as many precautionary steps as you could. Honestly, you were so attentive to the list you'd be amazed at yourself if you had forgotten anything! You go over the list in your head again.

Rule #1: Don't tell him shit, check.

Rule #2: Don't touch his shit, check.

Rule #3: Don't leave your shit out, check.

Rule #4: Put away firestarters or sharp objects, actually don't own any, make sure there aren't any in a 5 mile radius. Check.

What else was there? Hmm..

Rule #5: He's going to give you hell so shrug off his antics. Sort of check. They still bother you.

Rule #6: If you try to fight with him or give in to his challenges, he'll win, do not engage. 

Your head turns to look back into the living room. The clothes are still everywhere and you swear there's even more than there was before. Bro's leg was still hanging over the back of the couch and the lowlight of his dumb skating game flashing... and that weird puppet face staring at you with hauntingly hollow eyes. You glare back at the creepy asshole and head towards the bathroom halfway admitting an early defeat. There was no way you could fight this kid. He's got all the handicaps!

How was this fair? He can challenge you and do anything to mess with you or your home but if you so much as try to do something about it, you're in the wrong. What the hell, Dave? Why do you have to allow this satan spawn to have this much power? You clench your fist and shake it at the air as if Dave was standing in front of you and you were scolding him.

You would not lose this war.

You will not lose it.

Rule #7: He likes his showers scalding so make sure your water heater is working.

This thought has you skipping the door to the bathroom with a sneaky smile on your face as you head for the basement door. You're going to make sure the water heater is 'working'.

\-----

Hours had passed since you completed your mission and you thought it was time for bed. It was breaching 4am and you were wiped out. Hard work deserves good sleep. You've always been a fan of this motto, especially when you collapse on to your comfortably soft bed with ridiculously warm blankets and super comfy pillows. And why not deserve some sleep? Sure it wasn't the hardest work you've ever done but this kid had you drained faster than a day at your grandpa's house splitting lumber. Not to mention you've had to let this kid get away with whatever he wanted. That got tiring real fast.

Before you made it to your bed you had tidied up a bit. As much as you could anyways. His stuff was literally everywhere! And you didn't want to hear him bitch if you touched his things in the slightest. He was causing your sanity to decrease. You were well on your way to turning senile. Sleep was so heavy in your eyes now that you were laying in your bed. Images of a promising dream start passing behind your eyelids and you welcome it, almost forgetting that you turned off the water heater on Bro until there was a bowl of cold water dumped onto you.

"Yyyaaahhh!" you started, flailing out of your bed sheets and sliding off onto the floor stomach down with your legs still on the bed. Your shirt is sticking to your chest uncomfortably. It would be nice if you could pull it off, you think as you start pushing yourself up so you could do just that but a weight was placed on your butt making it difficult to do any moving and your arms folded under you, not because you can't hold up the weight but because if you tried staying up it would make breathing hard.

"Gah, what the hell.." you grumble into the plush carpet.

"What the hell is right," Bro growled from up above you. Your head turns a bit to see a blurry figure (curse your bad eye sight) sitting on top of you, making it difficult to manoevuer. He's a lot heavier than he originally looked.

"What, what. Why are you sitting on me?" Your legs start pushing at the bed in an attempt to shake the kid off but he leans back, planting his hands on your calves, fully restricting the usage of your lower half. "Guh, what the hell, you're so fat." 

"And you turned off the cold water didn't ya?" Of course you did, you were guilty and he sounded annoyed. It made that southern accent sound a lot more attractive than normal. Uh, you mean, that you just never really get to hear such an accent and he better get off of you before you lay down some serious punishment. Like, no TV maybe. 

You lie through your teeth as you tell him that you didn't do what he's accusing you of and he pinches the soft delicate part at the back of your thigh and you jerk.

"Ow, you little shit! Get off of me already!" With a shout and sudden burst of energy you twist your torso with as much force as you can and it knocks Bro off, causing him to land on the floor next to you. You nod at your success and you reach up for your glasses and slide them on before turning on the lamp. The wet shirt finally peeled off and dropped to the floor for a moment before you realize Bro is wrapped in only a towel from the waist down.

"W-what the hell! Go get some clothes on, you weird pervert!" Bro gives you a look that resembles irritation and something else.

"I'm in a towel because I planned on taking a shower but you had to fuck with the heater," he retorts, pushing himself up and making sure the towel is secure around his waste. 'It's four in the god damn morning!' you think, squinting dangerously at him. "And I'm not a pervert, I haven't done anything." Bro mumbles something under his breath so silently you would never have known he said anything at all if you didn't see his lips move. His annoyance melted away into a sly smirk the more you stood there staring at him.

"W-what is it now?" Shit, were you nervous? What was there to be nervous about? Dave's little kid-brother-thing was standing there naked with only a towel and you were shirtless, there was nothing to be nervous about. Wait. Shit, shit, shit. You're shirtless. You quickly pull on a shirt from your end table and cross your arms, feeling a little vulnerable about the situation.

"You're blushin' a bit," he smirks, nodding slightly in your direction. "You lettin' your thoughts race over there? Maybe something perverted?"

"No!" You shouted at him in a higher octave than your normal voice. "Of course not, you're a kid."

Bro's smirk faded away into annoyance again. 

"I'm more of a man than you."

What was that supposed to mean? More of a man? He's younger than you! And that makes him a kid in your eyes. Bro is just a lean, slightly muscular guy with scars running over his arms and chest. And he's still wearing those weird ass shades. You look away deciding that there's definitely nothing manly about him. The silence was eating away at the air until Bro shifted, his hands reaching for the tuck in his towel.

"You were thinkin' that I'm not a man because I'm younger than you, yeah?" You turn your attention back to him and narrow your eyes at him in confusion. What the- How did he know? He's not a mind reader is he? 

"Did you want proof?" he asks and you notice his hand pulling at the towel. A blush rises and you back up into your bed, raising your hands to cover your eyes.

"Don't do that! Keep your towel on and I'll go turn on the water heater! You win." There was a scoff from Bro and he turned on his heel and walked back towards the bathroom. You think that maybe you hurt his child ego or something and you put a hand over your beating heart. That was weird and you're glad he's gone. Never again will you ever mess with his showers. No. Never. You shake your head as you head down the stairs towards the basement.

Morale was decreasing. There was no one on your side to help you deal with this situation. Then again you were the one who agreed to this. Then again this little shit should have enough common sense to be able to watch himself and not get into trouble. Yet here you are. You put your palms on your eyes and softly massage your headache away. You aren't going to win any battles tonight, are you?


End file.
